


"Good Girl"

by HashtagTheyFucked



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Light Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Praise Kink, Sibling Incest, Sister-Sister Relationship, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagTheyFucked/pseuds/HashtagTheyFucked
Summary: Zelda has a praise kink and Hilda is well aware of this fact.





	"Good Girl"

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the together-as-sisters May challenge. I was working off the prompt "Dark!Hilda with a side of Zelda's praise kink" although i'm not sure how dark hilda actually is in this lol. 
> 
> Enjoy, ya weirdos!

 

 

 

_Praise is the mode of love which always has some element of joy in it._

-C. S. Lewis

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Zelda is stressed.

 

Between rebuilding the church, getting the academy back up and running, and generally wrapping her mind around what is effectively a new religion, she hasn’t had much time for blowing off steam.

 

She doesn’t think that her meager congregation has realized the extent to which she has been overworking herself. She’s fairly certain that Hilda, and even Sabrina, have.

 

At least she doesn’t have her nephew hovering over her trying to help too. That’s not really his style anyway. Since Ambrose is away with Prudence hunting down her bastard of a husband, they are short handed with the mortuary— yet another problem Zelda needs to deal with, but hasn’t had time to address properly yet. She’s glad that at least one member of her family isn’t worrying and fussing over her. That doesn’t stop her from worrying about him, however.

 

Sabrina has taken to bringing Zelda tea in the afternoons after school. It’s sweet, but the child’s clumsy attempts to make conversation and help solve any of the problems Zelda is facing are tiring. She loves her niece, regardless of any recently revealed DNA history (does Lucifer even have DNA? She’s still fuzzy on the details), but Sabrina has always tried to take on problems too big for her.

 

Hilda’s attention to Zelda is both better and much, much worse. It’s better because Hilda is more knowledgeable and more experienced than Sabrina in almost every respect, so her advice is generally helpful. Besides that, Hilda knows most of the best ways to comfort her, whether that takes the shape of a glass of whiskey, Zelda’s favorite chocolate truffles, or a good old fashioned session of bitching over tea. But it’s worse in a way Sabrina could never match because of the little gestures and phrases Hilda gives her along with any advice or comfort.

 

It’s always something small, innocuous to everyone who isn’t Zelda. A squeeze on the arm and a “well done, sister” as she reads a proposal over Zelda’s shoulder. A bright smile and some prolonged eye contact with a “what a marvelous idea, Zelds” over the breakfast table as they all go over their plans for the day. Once— and this one took Zelda by surprise— it was a simple “thanks, love” after Zelda refilled her wine glass. Hilda had gently put her hand over Zelda’s forearm as she said it and Zelda had nearly dropped the bottle she was holding. There was also the time Hilda had reminded Zelda of a task she’d already completed, only to give Zelda a pleased “good girl” once Zelda informed her it was already done. That one always makes her blush and Hilda very well knows it. The worst had been one evening in front of the fireplace in the parlor, when Zelda had been up late writing notes on one of Edward’s theological articles. Sabrina was working at the coffee table on an essay she should have finished much earlier than the night before it was due. Hilda had placed some tea on the side table next to Zelda before circling around the couch to rub her shoulders and whisper in her ear, “I’m proud of you for working so hard on this.” Zelda had been unable to focus on Edward’s neat handwriting as Hilda worked on her tense muscles. She suddenly felt how warm the room was, and she was uncomfortably aware of the proximity of their niece.

 

She knows that Hilda knows exactly what she’s doing. She always conveniently does it when other people are around and finds some excuse to leave as soon as they’re alone together after.

 

It’s not the worst Hilda’s ever teased Zelda, but it’s particularly annoying that she’s chosen to do it now, right when she’s in the middle of this difficult transition.

 

She knows the payoff will be worth it, but she doesn’t much fancy how much she’ll have to endure until then. She also knows that if she tries to push Hilda in any way that her torment will only last longer. So Zelda is stuck in a limbo between the intense exhaustion and stress that comes with her new self appointed position and the overpowering helpless lust that her sister inspires in her whenever she explicitly praises her.

 

One evening Zelda manages to get to bed at a reasonable hour and Hilda happens to as well.

 

“Night, Zelds,”

 

“Goodnight, Hilda,” and Zelda reaches to turn off the lamp. Once the room is dark, Hilda says,

 

“You did very well with your sermon today, you know,”

 

Zelda’s heart immediately starts pounding. She lays very still on her back and says,

 

“Thank you,”

 

“You’ve been working so hard and it’s paying off, sister. You’re doing such a good job at this whole high priestess business,”

 

Zelda’s mouth is very dry, otherwise she would reprimand Hilda for using such a flippant tone about her new position.

 

“You’ve truly taken to it like a wart on a toad. I’m very proud of you,”

 

Zelda swallows, clenches and flexes her hands a few times.

 

“Not to mention how patient you’ve been with Sabrina lately. You’re doing a wonderful job at raising her.”

 

“Well,” Zelda’s voice is hoarse, “I couldn’t do it without you, sister,”

 

“Aww, and you’re modest to boot,” Zelda can hear the smile behind the words. “How did I end up with such an impressive, important, intelligent sister?”

 

Zelda only realizes her hands have drifted over her stomach to softly stroke skin through silk, when one grazes a bit too low on her navel. Her breath hitches and, of course, Hilda hears.

 

“Zelda,” Hilda’s tone has changed subtly in a way that makes Zelda’s stomach muscles clench involuntarily. It’s a little patronizing, firm but still soft. Zelda presses her thighs together as Hilda goes on, “Are you touching yourself?”

 

“No,” Zelda breathes out shakily. She thinks she knows what’s coming next, but there’s always the possibility that Hilda is still just tormenting her.

 

“Good girl,”

 

And just like that Zelda is practically panting. Her hands are clutching at her nightgown, her eyes are squeezed shut.

 

She hears the rustling of Hilda’s blankets and a second later she feels the bed jostle as Hilda hops up onto it. There’s a dip in the mattress and a sudden warm heat next to her hip.

 

“Look at me, Zelda,” Hilda knows what that voice does to her. She obeys and opens her eyes.

 

Hilda is there, looking down at Zelda. In the dim moonlight everything is washed in grey and Hilda looks like a film star that jumped off the black and white screen to come to Zelda.

 

“You’ve been working so hard. I think you deserve a little reward for how good you’ve been,”

 

Zelda manages a faint, “Oh?” And Hilda smiles indulgently at her. There’s a dark flash in her eyes, though, and Zelda struggles to stay still, not wanting Hilda to change her mind, but needing some kind of release.

 

Hilda reaches out to brush her knuckles along Zelda’s cheek, murmurs, “You’re being very patient, my love. I like that.”

 

Zelda’s eyes flutter closed at the contact and the words and the sheer nearness of her sister. But then Hilda’s hand retreats and Zelda almost whimpers.

 

“I believe I told you to look at me, sister,”

 

Zelda’s eyes snap open once more, slightly panicked, afraid she’s put a stop to this and earned herself more indeterminate days of torturous teasing.

 

“I’m sorry, sister,” she knows better than to offer up an excuse. Not when Hilda is using that tone and looking at her the way she is.

 

“There you are,” Hilda says gently, “I like to see you, Zelds, and I would like for you to know that I do, in fact, see you.”

 

Zelda nods slowly, still not sure if this is going the way she hopes.

 

“So...” Hilda’s fingers tiptoe down to the edge of the duvet on her chest and play with it. “Let me see you,” and she tugs it down a few inches until the tops of Zelda’s silk covered breasts are revealed.

 

Hilda looks at Zelda meaningfully and it takes Zelda a second to move into action. But she does, and she pushes the covers off herself, kicking her legs free. Then she’s laying in front of Hilda once more, blushing, breathing hard, and entirely too turned on.

 

“Very good,” Hilda says, and Zelda feels herself get wetter.

 

Hilda leans down to give Zelda a soft, lingering kiss before moving away. Zelda’s brow furrows in frustration and confusion when Hilda plants herself at the foot of the bed, sitting cross legged and rests her elbow on one knee so she can prop her chin up as she looks at Zelda.

 

Zelda sits up a little. She’s not sure— she rarely is when it comes to Hilda and this— but she thinks she knows what Hilda wants.

 

Hilda gives her an encouraging nod and smile.

 

Zelda’s breathing is coming quick and shaky as she arranges herself to sit up against the headboard. She bends her knees and spreads her legs under the tent that her long nightgown has become. Hilda licks her lips and Zelda smirks. That smal tell of Hilda's reassures Zelda that she isn't misreading things. As she settles herself better she lets one strap of her nightgown slip off her shoulder.

 

She pulls the hem of her nightgown up, over her knees until it’s bunched above her stomach and Hilda’s eyes go to her glistening sex. Zelda trails her fingers over the insides of her thighs.

 

“Yes, my sweet, take your time. You make such a pretty picture like this,”

 

She slides one finger through her wetness, coating it, spreading it around. To have Hilda watching her makes her clit throb from even that minimal movement. She adds another finger, still simply tracing her folds, spreading her wetness. She drags her fingers up on either side of her clit and then down, squeezing it lightly between them. Her hips jerk up for a second. She takes a deep, albeit shaky breath before dipping the tips of her fingers inside herself, gathering as much slickness as possible and bringing them up to her clit. She starts with light, slow circles.

 

Hilda is quiet as she watches Zelda, her eyes dark, and one finger sneaks it’s way out to rub over her plump lower lip.

 

Zelda’s fingers speed up and she bites her own bottom lip.

 

The hand that isn’t at Hilda’s face drifts to the fabric covering her inner thigh and begins stroking back and forth, up and down. Zelda looks down at it and nearly whimpers.

 

“Keep going, pet. Touch yourself for me,”

 

At that directive, a strangled sort of moan escapes from the back of Zelda’s throat. Hilda, who blushes and stammers at the mention of _s-e-x_ , always seems quite self-assured and cool during the act itself. A few times, as a special treat, Hilda’s lilting accent has whispered the most deliciously filthy words in Zelda’s ear— things that would make the wealthiest Parisian whore blush. It never fails to thrill Zelda, no matter how many times they’ve fucked, to see that side of her sister. A side almost no one else in the world has ever been lucky enough to witness.

 

Zelda’s fingers lose some finesse as she thinks about Hilda and three of her fingers rub wide, sloppy circles over her cunt. The tips of her fingers are circling her opening while the length of them rub over her clit which is getting more sensitive by the second. She can hear how wet she is and she’s having trouble keeping her eyes open, but she doesn’t want to disappoint Hilda by closing them.

 

Hilda’s eyes are fixed solely on Zelda’s hand as it works between her legs. Zelda feels her toes start to tingle as more blood rushes to her center. She wants to speed up, to press harder, to get there faster.

 

“Don’t rush, love. Let it come to you, it'll be so much better,”

 

Zelda nods and reminds herself to lighten her touch. She continues circling her whole cunt, but gently, letting her middle finger just brush over her clit while the fingers on either side of it massage her labia. A shaky moan escapes the back of her throat because Hilda is right, she always is. Her other hand drifts to her breast.

 

Hilda lets out a harsh breath, licks her lips again.

 

“Show me your tits, Zelds,”

 

And Zelda does, slipping one arm out completely while the other strap drops farther down her arm until the fabric covers only her stomach.

 

Zelda’s nipples are ridiculously tight and she wants Hilda’s mouth on them. Hilda smirks as if she knows what Zelda wants. She probably does.

 

Hilda stays at the foot of the bed as she continues whispering encouragement and murmuring praise. Her hand starts to drift down and then moves under her own cotton night dress. Zelda is twitching and on the verge of desperate. She feels two drops of sweat roll down one leg from the back of her bent knee. She cannot look away from her sister.

 

Zelda watches Hilda’s indistinct movement under the thin cotton of her nightgown and she whimpers.

 

“Hilda…”

 

“Yes, Zelda, I know you’re close. You’re so good,” she gasps and squirms and breathes out, “so good,”

 

“Please, can I, Hilda, let me-“ she cuts herself off with a guttural moan. She’s fighting to hold off her orgasm until Hilda says she can come.

 

Hilda is panting now, too and she locks eyes with Zelda, nodding.

 

“Now, Zelds,” Hilda says, “be a good girl and come for me.”

 

And Zelda does, looking into Hilda’s eyes and watching as she follows Zelda off the precipice.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What is a conclusion lol
> 
> Please give me a comment bc i crave validation, k, thnx, luv u, bye


End file.
